“You don’t propose, do you,” she said quietly, “that I should take this man for my husband?” “You can drive him away,” Annabel cried. I don't ask you to supply my place—for that is, perhaps, impossible. Naturally you shout yourself hoarse when she has finished, and feel jolly pleased with yourself. Before leaving the place he looked upwards, and could just discern the blue vault and pale stars of Heaven through an iron grating at the top.
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